


Click, Click, Snap

by J_TearBug (j_tearbug)



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cool, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sexuality Crisis, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, fuck tags I dont really want to reveal the rest of the plot, just read the damn thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_tearbug/pseuds/J_TearBug
Summary: A story told from the points of view of Tony Stark (eccentric, 5'3'' highschool senior, genius, and considerate sweetheart with too many issues) and Steve Rodgers (football team captain, 6'2'' military scout, king of "the road to hell is paved with good intentions"), who actually care a lot about each other despite their heated bickering and vehement disagreements.Tony's hurt, cocky, and hates himself, but he loves everyone else and wishes they took him seriously, and drinks way too much for his own good, and is trying, but coping mechanisms are hard.Steve likes to believe he makes the right choices all the time, and doesn't want to admit that he's hurting people he loves, but realizes the hurtful things he says after they're out of his mouth....and then there's Bucky. Broken, snarky, mother-hen Bucky.They never stood a chance, honestly.---...or, that one where theres a $200 (and growing) betting pool based on when they'll get together (not ever), an equally large one on the time (very short) of their next fight, and nobody knows what's going on with them and Bucky.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. A Misunderstanding Isn't an Excuse

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a long time I'm posting any work on here, my work's a lot better now so I've cleaned house on this account. 
> 
> I... sort of went insane on characterization, so if all else fails, I hope this is at least measurably accurate :)
> 
> enjoy :]

“Weather?” There were a few soft clicks after the tiles in the ceiling let a few rays of light change the sterile lighting of the lab. Tony tapped the screen in front of him with four fingers. “Hey, Jarvis?” The intercom buzzed softly. A cool comfort. “What time is it?”

 _“Sir, what time do you think it is?”_ came the steady voice. Tony set down the soldering device he had been holding and rolled his eyes.

“Jar, when I checked the clock five minutes ago I swear it was only two, but I checked the ceiling and it said the sun was coming up,” The wry chuckle at the other end of the com told him it most definitely was not two in the morning.

_“Good morning sir. School starts in an hour.”_

“An hour? I have time.” Tony twisted the solder metal in his hands. “Hey DumE, does this look off to you because something-”

 _“Your father is in the kitchen, and he would rather you dress nicely I believe. At least put the nice clothes on for the first few minutes of walking through the door, then change. I truly do not have the energy to clean up after another of his explosive arguments,”_ Jarvis said, then quietly added, _“And I dislike needing to monitor you stiching yourself back together,”_

“Sure, J. I'll try to stay away from the shards of ceramic this time,” if towels came out of the machine as dry as his tone, they’d work five times better.

_“Sir, I am not being superficial. I dislike seeing you in pain. Would you like a ride to school today, or should I leave the keys in the mailbox?”_

“Jarvis, do I seem in a state fit to drive?”

 _“Sir, I am sure that whatever I answer I will be wrong,”_ Jarvis said hesitantly, _“but I would like to drop you off anyway.”_ Tony’s posture changed; the weight behind what Jarvis was saying was not lost on him. His face hardened. _“And yet, I know you will not allow me to and so-”_ there was clanking for a few seconds. _“Keys are in the mailbox. Be careful, do you hear me?”_

“Thanks, J,” he said, hurriedly running a rag over his workspace. “You really are the best. Hey, DumE, buddy. Catch!”

\----

Rushing to his room should not have been as big a problem as it became. How hard is it to avoid one room of a house with 40 of them, four floors and at least three staircases each? Easy. Very, very easy. Stupidly so. Which is why, when Tony looked up from buckling his watch and found himself (in sweats and a half opened button up) eye to eye with his father (who was in a purple suit) he started. Hard.

“Anthony,” _click._ And Tony pinched the pad of his pointer finger with his thumbnail to stop from cringing. He could feel his posture change automatically, feeling the hod rod poking his back like it was still there. His face went on autopilot, falling expressionless. _Nonchalant. Nonchalant. Coffee? Haven’t had my third cup yet._ His face settled to disinterest and calm in seconds.

“Howard,” He nodded professionally, and walked away in the wrong direction, without coffee. Didn’t listen to his father yelling. Didn’t turn, didn’t care.

\----

“Uh… fuckfuckfuck where’s-”

“Sir?”

“JARVIS _bless you man_ where’s my red tie?” _And Thursday begins._ _Head buried in the drawers, black button up only half covering my ass, Jarvis failing at helping me get dressed and running on 2 hours of sleep for the whole week. Killing it so far._ “Ja- oh. Bless. How’d you know I’d want it?”

“Your lack of professional style and need to look giant, dim, and pretty, sir.” Tony had to keep from laughing, or. At least he tried to.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the saying, J.” Jarvis only smiled in reply to his quiet laughter.

“Your jeans are hanging from the ceiling fan, sir.”

“Ah so that's what happened yesterday. I lose track of where DumE puts my shit when he's trying to be helpful.” All he got was a mock-disappointed sigh in return as Jarvis left the room. He smirked, clicked his tongue. The finger guns at his mirror weren’t necessarily a hindrance to his mood. _Gonna be a great day._

Soft static noise in his earpiece. _“Anthony Edward Stark if you don’t get your greasy ass down this staircase-”_ If Tony gulped, he wouldn’t have admitted to it, and anyone seeing it would’ve believed it to be a mirage. Too late to check, his eyes were ice and his jaw was set.

He passed the comb once more through his hair. Then, looking in the mirror, made a face. Mussed his hair after the dime amount of gel started to set.

Time for a game of tag.

Tony's first out the driveway?

He lives.

Time to run.

\---

“He-ey, Ton-y, what’s happening,” _One highfive to start the day, spin, thumbs in the pockets, finger guns at Rhodey._

“Keepin’ cool, keepin’ casual, Virginia, sweetie, where have you been all my li-”

“Morning, Tony.” She waved over her shoulder.

“All right I love you too sweetie.” he added a “Hey, while you’re in History tell Rumlow to suck my-”

“Get to _class_ , Mr. Stark!”

“Awh! You’re too good to me!” And, yelling down the hallway by now, “I would be late to every first period class if you didn't remind me everyday, Ms. Carter!” _Thank you for saving me from a four hour detentionnn’tasha!_ “Nat. Nattie. Tash. Natalia. Oh ouch, no idea where that one came from-”

“Up your own, Tones!” Tony grinned, and then rolled his eyes when he saw the amount of freshman, simply standing in the middle of the hallway. _Relax the face, shoulders back, chin down,_

“Hey guys, hi. Good morning. You look like you got a good night’s rest! Happy for you, I did not!” He said boisterously. “In all seriousness, guys, you're gonna piss off a lot of people. You’re standing in the middle of the hallway, and blocking half the staircase. I’ll hit you myself if you don’t move, just know I still love you” He squeezed a random shoulder, winked and clicked his tongue. “Stay safe. No fights. Use protection when necessary. Alright, bye,” and with a wave like he was greeting someone with a tophat, he left them standing there, mouths open in shock.

“What just-”

“Was that-”

“Tony Stark?”

A dry but amused voice added, “Genius, soon-to-be billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” from all the way down the hall came-

“Damn straight, HawkeyBear!”

_Time for english._

\----

“Ah, sorry Ms. Bain. I just can’t agree with you there!”

“This is Advanced Placement Literature, Anthony-”

“Tony.” _Click_.

“Mr. Stark. I am more than happy for you to disagree. You need an argument.”

“Well you see Ms. Bain. Because the viewpoint is not the Judges, we can immediately assume the perspective and the narration are unreliable, because it is not often that a perspective and narrative given outside a character can correctly assume his character. I meant that of course in the context of his person. The passage we have just been analyzing is full of logos, and loaded language.” He paused, unsettled by the intense feeling of being watched. Shook his head, carry on with the analysis. “Not to mention it is a single sentence despite being approximately 30 lines of prose long. The examples given are arranged, neat, rehearsed. It is clear to me, as it should be to you, how _clear_ it is that the narrator is attempting to logically manipulate the reader into believing in the goodness of the Judge. I would like to present the case of a court case, in which the Judge is being charged with something that would heavily bring down his public image.”

“Anthony,” _Click_. The teacher shook her head minutely. “Anthony- you aren’t providing clear examples-”

“I’d say his examples are perfectly clear.” Tony whipped his head around, trying to find his savior. Upon finding him, Tony’s face fell. Golden Boy was smirking that _god awful smirk_ he had right before he made a (stupidly) witty comment. Fuck him. Tony’s lip curled as he turned around. “Clearly, Tony’s got a host of trust issues he has yet to sort through, and has plenty experience manipulating others into seeing his side of things, how else would he be able to see the small implications of it in a simple statement?” the brown leather jacket, the khakis, the damned combat boots. _If only he knew how ironic the statement was._ Tony Stark resolved that finally, finally he would punch Steve Rodgers in his stupid, pink mouth. And this time, he wasn’t going to stop himself. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Outta bed, sugar! Heat’s on, I dropped a mit and the bacon’s half out the oven!” 

“Mornin’, Ma.”

“Props for catching that, Wonder Boy. The grease would have ruined the rug.”

“Why’d you put the rug under the oven again, then? And why didn’t you do anything? She may as well be your mother too!” 

“Watch your mouth, or I won’t be your mother any longer you can say that,”

“She was faking it, Blondie. Only way I could convince her to get you outta bed with your Tighty Whities- hey picking me up isn’t going to solve your-oh, ha,  _ shit!” _ And Steve dropped him. “Oh, fuckin’ hell, man!” 

“Language, James,” said Ms. Rodgers. 

“Yeah,” said Steve, “watch your mouth!” 

And they were about to be wrestling again, before Bucky slapped his arm away. “Go  _ change _ , Wonder Boy.” Bucky walked into Steve’s room, followed by the man himself, who began looking for clothing.

“Hey Buck?” asked Steve, rummaging through his side of the bureau. He got a hum from where Bucky was twisting his bedsheets into swirls in response. “Why’d you yell when I picked you up?”

Bucky started laughing. “Because in the morning, Mini-should I keep calling him mini? Because he’s not that-”

_ “Bucky!”  _

“Fine. Above-Average-Steve likes the morning ai-”

“Bucky, shut up!” Steve squwaked, hitting him with a pair of socks. “Stop laughing at me!” which, of course, only made Bucky laugh harder when he saw Steve’s bright red face.

“He-” He really could not breathe.  _ “Damn man, _ that shit on my hi-” and he got a pillow to the face. “Steve, I’m  _ trying _ to-”

“Language, and  _ shut. up. now.”  _ Bucky did not stop laughing. Steve held up a staple he found loose in his drawer. “I will not hesitate to jam this into your arm and you well know it will stop working.” that shut him up.

“Hey, can you actually check it? It's been bugging me a few days now, and I can’t figure what it is?” Bucky asked. The light in his eyes was replaced with a more solemn look. “Please, Steve?”  
“Yeah, sure, Buck.”

\---

The station was as loud as the apartment had been quiet. Bucky and Steve were shoving each other around and trying to make eachother drop their food. Bucky checked his watch. “Bus is late, again,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s always late, Buck, but at least it’s late on  _ time.  _ All they need to do’s re-write the schedule to match it.” Bucky groaned and threw his head back over the bench. Steve shoved him off. 

“Hi, Steve?” Steve glanced back up from checking on Bucky (who was doing a dramatic job of climbing back onto the bench as if he had been hanging off it like a moving train over a cliff).

“Hi Sharon, how’s your morning?” Steve smiled at her easily, and moved his backpack onto the ground to make room for her on the bench. “Bucky, stop being so damn dramatic and great Sharon,” 

Bucky, who grumpily sat down on the three inches of bench that was left him, gritted out “Hi, Sharon,” before opening his phone. The way he rolled his shoulder a few times did not escape Steve's notice. Steve, ever the showman, rolled his eyes good naturedly, and faced his friend, who responded in tucking hair behind her ear excitedly and began to explain the debauchery around her morning discovery of the broken washing machine. 

\----

Steve opened his locker, threw in his hat and grabbed a set of books. Turned around, and was about to go up the left wing staircase before groaning under his breath at the mass of freshmen. He shoved his way through and was about to  _ pummel the literal breath _ out of them because one of them had the nerve to remind him to put his lanyard on. Right as he clenched a fist in muted anger, he heard a loud “Hey guys, hi. Good morning. You look like you got a good night’s rest! Happy for you, I did not!” and smiled. Found the short mess of obsessively neat black curls, the big, dorky glasses, and rolled his eyes affectionately. 

_ English with Tony, coming up. _

_ \---- _

Steve swore he had no idea where he was going when he started to whale on Tony. He was,  _ truly _ , he was planning on defending him before he turned around. He was always happy to wipe a dazed smile off of the face of Ms. Bain, revenge for coming onto his friend, a student. But Tony turned around, and Steve was still looking at him, and he was smirking and so was Tony, and Steve was about to smile when Tony’s face fell. And he panicked.

Then, right away, hated himself for it.

\----

“Hey guys, how's your days been so far?” Steve said grinning, tossing his backpack on the seat of the lunch table. “Bruce, welcome back! Was starting to think this time we would lose you to illness!” Bruce rubbed the back of his head.

“I think the main problem with my being back is that I really can't breathe reliably. But thank you for the warm welcome, and thanks for visiting me!” As he finished, Bruce looked around. “Uh, hey there’s a murderous looking small genius coming at you?” Steve nodded to Natasha and Clint as they sat down with their backpacks.

“That’s my cue. I’ll be back soon. Let Bucky know our money is in the front pocket of the inside left one,” and Steve, ever so gracefully, departed. Bruce looked bewildered.  _ Where’s the money again?  _ He mouthed at Clint, who chuckled. Steve called over his shoulder to instruct them to “Please tell Tony I don’t want a screaming match, but do it gently. I really got him off in first today.” Steve shifted his gaze to Sharon’s table, Natasha looked around for a moment. 

“Hey, where’d ShellHead go? Thor’s on his way over, but where’s-”

“That  _ smarmy, do-gooder greaseball  _ that is walking around in a body _ not okay with me  _ and pissing me off? I need to scream at him!” What was that about his body? Steve should've been paying more attention, and he barely caught what Natasha was saying in response.

“-to say our beloved gremlin, but I think we’re talking about different people.” She said something Steve (unfortunately) couldn’t hear, and saw Tony quirk up the corners of his mouth into a smile and said “I need to take a leak. I’ll be back.”

“He did it again,” Clint said as he watched Tony walk away, and rolled his eyes. “This is going to burst today or tomorrow, I’m putting ten bucks on it.”

“I want in, we split it even with the fool who bets against us.”

“ _Hi guys_!” Thor, who had walked up happy and content, was received with winces at his voice. “Sorry! It is not usually so quiet on this side of the cafeteria. On what are we placing bets today?” Steve rolled his eyes and tried to pay attention to Sharon’s friends. It seemed that she was trying and failing just as badly, so he didn’t feel all too awful about it, and listened to his friends instead.

“-ny are going to get into it tomorrow,” replied Bruce smoothly. _ Ouch. Does it happen  _ that  _ often? _ “If he’s still doing that shutdown thing where he goes into his head for hours, they’ll be fine tomorrow. He calms down and works through it enough in his head. But, knowing them, I’m saying it won’t come up for another...two, three days at least. $20.” Clint and Natasha fistbumped. They shared an awkward glance and Steve decided he’d had enough eavesdropping. He turned and saw Tony walking up at the same time. Tony’s eyes were still relatively blank, but he had a genuine (if not wicked) smile on his face. Steve smiled to himself and was about to sit down before Tony opened his stupid mouth.

“Last day of school before the four day weekend, end of a beautifully uneventful four day week, and it’s time to get  _ hammered _ before the school day ends. Bucky,” (who had just conveniently walked up) “the shot glasses, please, I have the scotch in my bag.” As he spoke, Steve’s face turned slowly more red. He saw Buck immediately go for their lunch money before he glanced up, worried.

“That’s not funny to even suggest, Anthony.”  _ Click. _ Tony’s shoulders rolled back. “If you cared enough about your grades as you did getting drunk, you might be- Bucky, get your hand off my chest!”

“Siddown, Wonder Boy. Tony’s actually had a rough week. You’ll get us all killed.”

Natasha and Bruce began “Or worse-” and looked at eachother, grinning in surprise.

“I walk up here and it's already happening? Wow, and look, Tony’s already shut down. Impressive. Did not think you fuckers could do it in- how long since the bell rang? Two minutes.” Natasha frowned. 

“Yeah, and this is the second time.” Bucky faced Steve grimly, giving him a look that said  _ we WILL be talking about this later.  _

“I have shot glasses, Starkey-warkey, so siddown and give me the fucking alcohol so we can play Never-Have-I-Ever, but if you have, you drink.” Bucky gently pushed Steve down, and Nat pulled his sleeve until Tony did, too. Wordlessly, he took the alcohol from his backpack (in a water bottle) and Bucky passed out bottle caps. “What?” He said at their unamused expressions. “We’re only halfway through the day, we can’t get too wrecked!”

“Lucky for me, I have an actual shot glass,” Tony said, seemingly pleased with himself but annoyed. Steve narrowed his eyes, was about to say something, and thought better of it. “That's right Spangles, save that wonderful pucker for doing more useful things than berating me and making me look like a fool in front of entire groups of people,” Steve leaned back. What was the issue? There was something off about the calm, dead expression in his eyes.  _ Did I do that?  _

“Hey Tony,” Bucky asked, “Wanna go first?”

“Nah,” came the waved reply as he carefully poured scotch into everyone’s bottle caps “You go. I trust you’ll start us off on the right foot,” Bucky looked at him devilishly. Steve started shaking his head, he wouldn’t, he- “There’s a catch, though, to  _ this _ game.” everyone perked up a little at that. “Every question has to be aimed at exposing someone for something they would really rather be kept under wraps. And no lies when you drink. You all know I’ll know.”

“Alright,” Bucky reached up his arm(s) and cracked his back and knuckles, letting out a satisfied groan. “Never have I ever had a problem understanding math,” One, two, three, four shots belonging to Thor, Natasha, Steve, and to his surprise, a scowling Tony. 

“You really went there,”

“Hey now, I told you I could only keep our tutoring sessions during that one unit of geometry under wraps for so long!”

“ _ It was two years ago and it only happened twice!”  _ Steve watched amused, trying to forget the annoyingly bitter taste the few drops of scotch had left in his mouth.Tony grumbled, and Steve was pleased to see that the dead look in his eyes had passed. “Fine, my turn. Never have I ever been in handcuffs, for any reason.” He smiled devilishly. An uproar at the other side of the table.

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it Tony, take that shot!” Tony complied with a shrug, looking pointedly at Bruce, who sheepishly drank. Clint looked astonished. “Bruce, you bad boy, what did you get arrested for?” Tony’s wide smirk deepened at the same time Bruce’s face got darker. Clint looked ready to faint. “ _Bruce?! Bruce. BRUCE.”_ But Steve didn’t get it. He was, unsurprisingly, very confused. 

“Why would you wear handcuffs if you weren’t being arrested? That sounds particularly unpleasant, and probably painful,” Tony choked, halfway through taking a long drink from his ‘water’ bottle. Steve wasn’t sure what he was paying more attention to, how annoyed he was that there was scotch all over the table now, or that it was also all over him. “Hey! You spit on me!” Tony’s eyes had a predatory gleam to them as he leaned over the table, presumably to explain the handcuff thing. _Why are you looking at me like that and why do I-_ Natasha hurriedly took her shot and pulled him back. She said something he couldn’t hear to Tony, who’s smile got wider even as he sat down.

“Fine. I won't ruin your innocence  _ right now _ .” Something about the way he took his glasses off was deliberate, but Steve couldn’t place it (and he didn’t think he wanted to). 

“Never have I ever heard Steve say the F-word,” Bruce said, frowning. Tony protested vehemently.

“Hey now, that’s not fair, Steve doesn’t swear and that’s not exposing-” He stilled. Clint looked at him pointedly. "ah." And Tony drank. Bucky drank too, but that didn’t mean much. Bucky did military camps with him, of course he had heard him swear. Where had Tony?

“Look at that, Golden Boy!” Bucky said giddily. “Someone besides your childhood bed mate has seen you swear!” 

Tony muttered something under his breath. “What was that, Tony?” 

“Nothin’, take your damn shot and move on with the game, hey where’s Thor? He’s s’posed to be getting drunk with the rest of us.” He bit back.

“He went to make sure Loki was doing okay. He’s found a weird new group of people, and Thor’s a bit worried.” Bruce said, looking around. “In Thor’s defense, they are really off. I’m worried about him a little too.” Clint looked annoyed. 

“I’m not. The idiot can make all the mistakes he wants. I’m done protecting him from things he could avoid,” Steve started to reach out a hand, but Natasha was already there, muttering things that sounded like  _ “Not his fault”  _ and  _ “I know, I’m sorry.” _ Steve was thoroughly confused.

  
  


Three questions later everyone had already taken at least one shot. Bucky had gotten up to get food for everyone, taking literal orders on a piece of paper. Bless Bucky.

Tony had given him the money for it, had glared ferociously when Bucky had initially refused to take it.  _ Click.  _ “Hey, stupid. Don’t let pride get in the way here. I want food, everyone else wants food, you don't have enough in Steve’s back pocket for it all and theres like,” Steve remembered how he had looked around, double checking, and last minute added Loki to the list. “seven of us on a bad day, everyone wants something different and I don’t have a bill smaller than a fifty." (a lie, Steve knew) "Take it, pay, or I’ll do it myself.”

Bucky was astonished. He looked to Steve to back him, and Steve handed Tony the 20 they were going to use for lunch. Tony looked so offended by the hand offering it to him Steve almost looked away. For someone who was only just Steve’s height when the latter was sitting down, he was incredibly intimidating. “Please, Tony, at least let  _ us  _ get you back for it. You fixed our heater last month and didn’t accept money for that, either.” Tony now looked genuinely hurt, and Steve was beginning to wonder why. It was only $20, it wasn’t like he was trying to pay back an entire service job. He would (and had) tried to, but it hadn’t gone over well. “Tony, please.”

“Fine, you incapable  _ fucks.  _ I’ll get it myself.”  _ click.  _ He angrily took his money back from Bucky without sparing Steve another glance. He left the list of orders. 

\----

So, when Tony had returned with more than enough food for twice the amount of people at the table, Steve got angry. How could he spend easily over a hundred dollars on food he wasn’t even sure everyone would eat? Did he really not know how angry, correction, how  _ upset _ it made him to see food go to waste? “Stop blowing your money on things that aren’t necessary! I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with your- this whole-  _ do-gooder _ act, trying to show everyone up by buying them lunch and alcohol and then not following through with actually  _ being  _ there for everybody, but it's not  _ going  _ to work, because it  _ hasn’t  _ worked in the past!” Natasha got up again, likely to talk Tony down again, but Tony was strangely calm in the way he set the food down on various trays and held up a hand in the “wait” sign to stop her.  _ Click.  _

“Listen close, Rodgers.”  _ Click, click.  _ If the dangerous quiet that had taken his voice made Steve start, the finger that was coming dangerously close to his chest in accusation scared the wits out of him. “I am going to tell you this once, so listen, because next time it's going to be my fist talking. I am finished with your theatrical assumptions of my actions, how you judge everything and assume the actions are based on how  _ you _ feel about a situation. 

“I understand the need to understand every situation because of an overwhelming need to compulsively be in control _I do_ , better than most. The difference is that I can tell you want to understand a situation so you can control it." Natasha looked away in shame, stalked back to Clint, and rubbed her forehead. “You pay attention to the things you say, Spangles.”  _ Clicklicklicklicklick _ . The way he spit out the nickname like it was a curse made Steve recoil sadly inside. “I spend this money because I care. I know that You, Bucky, Thor are on the football team, eat twice as much as we do. Yet, you and Bucky don’t eat breakfast most days, and today may have been an exception but you digest too fast to be able to make it through the day.” Steve’s head snaps back as if slapped.  _ Click.  _

“I know Bruce hasn’t eaten because he’s been sick, even though I’ve been sending him crackers and muffins I know he hasn’t touched them.” Tony’s eyes flicker to Bruce, who has already gladly taken the salad full of his favorite fruits and crackers gratefully, and who is now rubbing the back of his neck. “Clint and Natasha take the best care of themselves out of probably all of you, but Clint didn’t sleep well and he always gets hungry after a bad night, but he hasn’t eaten yet today. Well, Bird Brain? Take the cereal, I know you want it.” Clint took it. “Natasha hasn’t seen a warm meal in this whole week. She’s been taking care of the kids her parents are fostering while they’re away. Again.” Natasha is already hungrily eating the wings. “And I know Thor is going to come back with Loki any minute, and because Loki looks like a fucking stick but he’s a slut for cinnamon rolls there’s five of them for them to share. You will have noticed,  _ Captain,  _ that I have been handing out drinks. I grew up with an alcoholic, but clearly you know nothing about drinking despite having that wonderful tolerance of yours.

“I feed my friends, and even those who are pissing me off. Bucky, make sure everyone doesn’t have more than two more mini shots. There’s chicken alfredo waiting for you by the counter already paid for, they had to pull a fresh one out of the oven. Captain, I don’t want to see your face for a week at least. Eat your fucking burrito, and don’t call me to apologize at midnight this time. I’m not going to pick up, and if I do, I’m not going to be nice about it. Natasha, make sure Loki eats, and put any leftovers in my locker,” And so, ever so gracefully, Tony, 5’3’’ bony genius, took a huge swig of scotch ( _ click _ ), took his small cup of fruit, and left, leaving Steve Rodgers, football team captain, 6’2’’ military scout, dumbfounded, embarrassed, and regretful.

“Well. I have barely spoken to Tony all week. His insight is too good for us.” Clint said, and Natasha nodded along, her mouth smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

\----

_ Bucky: Chicken alfredo _

_ Stevie: TBD _

_ Bruce: Salad, and topping is fine _

_ Natasha: wings _

_ Clint: ~~cereal~~ blueberries _

_ Thor/loki: TBD? _

_ Tony: pasta _

_ \---- _

Initially, he refused to eat the burrito. It wasn’t on principle, or that he thought it was a waste of food, like he was accused of by first Natasha, then Clint. It was because he knew there wasn’t a dinner waiting for him and Bucky when they got home. His mom had gotten sick again, and the cost of the hot baths she had needed had added up that month. They were already a week behind on their bills. Bucky took a few bites of his food before forcing himself to sit his fork down and went to get takeout containers. Steve hung his head, and wished Tony had taken the scotch with him, because he drank most of it. Thor had returned, tiny, impish freshman Loki in tow. He now passed him the plate of hot rolls.

“Never have I ever undervalued Tony,” Loki gleefully proclaims, picking apart his cinnamon roll with a content, warm look on his face.

Steve finished the alcohol.

\----

The next few classes were a blur. He vaguely remembered his schedule, showed up on time, but said nothing and hid in the back corners of the classrooms so nobody would mention his glassy-eyed stare.

  
Packing up from his last class, he had almost thought he made it through okay. Bucky was waiting for him outside the door. “Ready for practice?” He asked him habitually. Bucky offered him a pained look. “Off season. Right.” To re-emphasize, Steve _thought_ he was going to be fine, that he had made it through the day reasonably. That was, of course, _before_ he opened his locker to collect the books he needed for homework, and found five boxes stacked on top of each other, incredibly warm and smelling delicious. _You might piss me off, and I wasn't_ originally _going to do this, Rodgers, but I refuse to let you starve. Tell Barnes theres another container of chicken in there, because I know neither of you ate the food I got you for lunch. You should eat on the bus. Put the food in the oven, keep it at a steady 250, eat it when you're ready. Give my best to your mom, and tell her that if she tries to send me money for that repair again, I’ll double the cash when I send it back._ The set of pink post-it notes right under another shone harshly despite the shadows of his locker. Steve looked at Bucky, his face a mess of horror and crumpled regret.

\----

Returning home proved to be even worse of a stake in his heart. Stomachs full for the first time in days from near-cold lunch food, Steve walked with Bucky and pretended not to notice how he shifted his arm uncomfortably. _One thing at a time. One thing at a time._ But on coming home, He found Sarah Rodgers quietly crying over a stack of bills. He looked at Bucky and Bucky immediately took the boxes from his hands and started the oven so that their food would be warm. But what Steve was _not_ expecting as his mom looked up at him, was that yes, she was crying, but she was smiling in such a painful, grateful way Steve took a step back. 

"Ma?"

"Darling boy. It's days like today that make me keep my faith. I'm always at the hospital, I see such horrors. Children-" Her voice cracked and she drew a shaky breath. "I got a bell, about two hours ago. Telling me my apartment was being entered. You know, with the little camera that you installed for me?" Steve had bought them a doorbell that was supposed to prevent robberies after the third time. "But the camera was covered, and I could hear a raspy voice telling someone he needed help carrying something in. I ran home, I already was almost done with my shift and you know how sweet our head doctors are." She broke down in a fresh bout of tears. It sounded like a serious break-in, why was she smiling so sadly? Then he saw the bright pink Post-It notes on a yellow envelope. 

_Ms. Rodgers,_

_I'm incredibly sorry for bypassing your trust like this, but I'm sorry to say you've forced my hand. I worked on a better security system for the door itself after I left, I do hope you don't mind. Inside this envelope should be enough to cover the bills for four months. James's birthday is coming soon, and Steve's relatively soon after, so of course there is plenty to cover any expenses that should arise from those wonderful events. I do hope you'll forgive me, I took the liberty of stocking the fridge but there are more sweets than actual food, so there is also food in the pantry. I told you one too many times you owed me no debt for the heater, and im sorry to say you didn't listen when I told you, then_ Steve _not to try to pay me back for it. This of course, is a necessary punishment._

Hastily, on the envelope and not on pink, was scrawled

_(Please don't hate me, I didn't mean to cause any harm or displeasure. I wish only the very best for my favorite family of three)_

Sarah didn't stop crying for another hour.

When she did, she tried to force Steve to call Tony to thank him. Steve, knowing Tony would either be too upset or too drunk to answer with care, tried to come up with a good excuse that include _We got into a blowout argument and Tony's probably drunk and I'm really sorry about all of it but I don't want him to be even more upset with me._

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was over a year's worth of rent, water, electricity and heating in the envelope.

\----

_Thursday, 08.00 T to J: Jarvis? Where is my alcohol?_

_Thursday, 08.03 T to J: Nevermind, found it._

_Thursday, 08.05 J to TS: Alright, sir. Don't do anything particularly brash._

_Thursday, 08.10 T to J: Aye-Aye._

_Thursday, 12.14 T to J: I may have spent $80 on my friends' lunches._

_Thursday, 12.14 J to TS: Sir?_

_Thursday, 13.36 T to J: Hey J, I need a ride home. I can't do last period, I can't tell you why, but we also need to make a pit stop._

_Thursday, 13.37 J to TS: Are you alright, sir?_

_Thursday, 13.39 J to TS: Tony._

_Thursday, 13.58 J to TS: I've arrived. Where to?_

_Thursday, 14.01 T to J: nearest grocery. i'll be out in two shakes._


	2. Distractions, Money, and Pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wouldn't say he was being generous to distract his father, even if that's exactly what he was doing. Honestly, it didn't matter because he and his boys were getting puppies, and ultimately, the only person who would get hurt would be himself, so... what problem would there really be?
> 
> Or, that one where Tony accidentally-on-purpose uses his father's bank account to withdraw thousands of dollars instead of his own (with good cause) and then of course, rest of the story from his perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so much longer than I was expecting! editing is a pain in my ass, and i unfortunately suffered through writing this chapter. I feel like its not my best, but it is what it is! here we are, lovelies

Robotics, frustratingly enough, had frustrated the everloving frustration out of Tony. Which was frustrating, because he almost never got frustrated with robotics no matter how frustrating and tedious it was. He took a deep breath. Electromagnetic bonding into neurological systems was proving to be far more difficult than they thought it would be, especially because the rest of the class was programming and he was working sans goggles under his lab table. He raised his hand for the first time all year with a confused expression on his face. The teacher looked equally astonished. 

“Tony?”

“Yeah, okay so speaking entirely metaphorically, if one were to attempt to bond robotics to neurological systems using electromagnetic, preemptively tested technology that would aim to replace a limb and act as the limb-”

“Mr. Stark, this kind of technology has not been tested or in any way been attempted in lieu of morals and lack of human testing capabilities-”

“I know thats why it's _hypothetical_ but if I were to, say, attempt to reconstruct oh I don't know, an arm or something from the bones to the neurons and muscles and attempt to bond them to the rest of his system, I should _technically be able_ to restore full function and mobility with minimal side effects, issues, and complications.” His teacher looked bewildered, and his classmates looked ready to hurt him. He ducked his head. “Nevermind, hypothetical question. You can go on with the lecture.” He got back to work. 

The blueprints he had drawn up were mostly for the outside of the arm, he had taken no care to attend to the finer mechanics until he had a good enough idea of how to electromagnetically bond it to Bucky’s body. _How the hell do you bond electricity to your central nervous system, flawlessly enough that it can be both easily repaired and hard to damage? Okay, you’ve done harder things before. Think. Think, think. What’s a metal that bonds with your body but doesn’t corrode in any way? Something that can imprint on muscle and bone while receiving a constant flow-back of data in return? Doodling the periodic table won’t help you now you stup- oh my god. Did I just figure this out? I just figured this out!_ Fuck _yes! Oh shit._

It’s safe to say that Tony’s next two classes were spent drawing up plans for a replacement to Bucky’s arm. Or an upgrade. Most likely a replacement.

Now the issue was finding a way to sneak it out of his fath- Howard’s lab, unnoticed.

\----

_"OOOOOH SAY CAN YOU S-"_

_Thursday, 10.14 CA to T: Hey. I'm sorry about the outburst during English. I don't know why I_ _reacted that way, it was unjustified and unprompted. I actually really liked your analysis, and since I've had a hard time with lit recently where I know you've been doing well, would you want to maybe tutor me? I would really appreciate it._

Tony took a deep, deep breath when he read Steve’s text. Then he took another one. And another one. _Why, as I’m taking deep breaths, does it feel like none of the oxygen is going to my head?_

Tony was, in fact, very angry. Two more deep breaths. He put the phone down. He could worry about that later. 

No, he couldn’t, who was he trying to kid. 

_Thursday, 10.22 T to CA: I don’t get you, Cap. You insult me in front of a classroom of our peers, you apologize (half assed, by the way,) and then you ask me to do_ you _a favor. Now tell me,_ Captain. _Does that sound like something I would easily forgive you for?_

_Thursday, 10.22 CA to T: Tony, I’m sorry, I am. You know I can’t control my mouth. I lip off to everyone in my vicinity, I’ve pissed everyone off at least once if not more because of it. I’m sorry, really, I am._

Deep breathing was not one of Tony’s strong suits, as he very soon discovered. Surprising, as he used it to calm himself down all the time. The question here really was a question of Steve’s fucking _blindness to Tony’s existence did he really not-_ Tony bit his tongue, the over stim/stinging sensation brought him back more than the breathing. _Do I not exist in Steve’s universe? Do any of the things I do stick with the man?_ More deep breathing. More not working on the deep breathing’s part.

“You know,” He said, turning to the kid next to him with a sharp glance. “I might just kill the man. I might, I’ll do it, you know I will” He pointed at the kid (Jared? Jerry? Justin? Ja-) who looked terrified. “I know you know, I definitely-”

“Stark.”

“Yessir.”

“If you talk about murder, you get caught with the murder. Shut up and watch this film,”

“Yessir. Call me Tony, sir,”

“I'll call you Tony when you stop calling me sir, Stark.”

“Alright, sir. Sounds like a plan, sir.” The teacher rolled his eyes, though the effect was ruined because he was hiding a fond grin. Tony had a smart little smile that only wavered a little bit when he heard the loud (American anthem) text tone blaring accusingly from his bag for the rest of the film about attacks and battle strategy in World War II.

\---

Tony Stark was fully justified when he stormed into the cafeteria. At least he told himself he was, and he kept doing so until he started to believe it. He saw Steve _fucking_ Rodgers very nearly _saunter_ away (two tables away) and heard Natasha ask “Hey, where’d ShellHead go? Thor’s on his way over, but where’s-”

“That _smarmy, do-gooder greaseball_ that is walking around in a body _not okay with me_ and pissing me off? I need to scream at him!” Tony was sure to be loud enough that Steve would not only hear, but wince as he heard him. And wince he did, wince he did. Tony’s lip curled. He hardly heard Natasha’s reply.

“I know you’re not alright, Tin Man.” Tony nearly snarled at her but she leaned in and all she had to say was “I’m sure it was justified, but settle. Calm down.” Oh right, Tony had no right to express justified emotions. “Smile, sweetheart.” On reflex, Tony’s lips quirked into a smile, his eyes dead.

“I need to take a leak. I’ll be back.” He said swiftly, paying no mind to Clint, who had begun his ceaseless, pointless babble.

…

 _Okay, that was mean, that was really mean. I could never say that without being hypocritical._ He walked past the bathrooms to the vending machine, not buying anything. He glanced at his friends, who were slapping down money, and Steve, who was pretending to listen to _Sharon._ He glared at the vending machine as if it had personally wronged him, handed a five dollar bill to the person in line behind him. “Sorry for the wait, let me pay for your food.” he cringed inwardly. _“Right, remember that. The good in you is the money, give it out and people will see it.”_ Ty could piss straight to hell. He plastered a smile onto his face, then remembered his lunch plans. He saw Bucky walking up to them from the other side of the cafeteria. _Wonderful._

“Last day of school before the four day weekend, end of a beautifully uneventful four day week, and it’s time to get _hammered_ before the school day ends. Bucky, the shot glasses, please, I have the scotch in my bag.” As he spoke, he noticed Steve, who had chosen that moment to make his entrance. _Can we get a committee to keep us from arriving places at the same times?_

“That’s not funny to even suggest, Anthony.” _Click._ Tony set his shoulders firmly. “If you cared enough about your grades as you did getting drunk-” _Do not listen to the blinding anger, keep the straight face, there’s no reason to show off the wounds._ Bucky’s chest was on his- Bucky’s hand was on Steve’s chest, pushing him gently. Saying something about his week. Bruce and Natasha made a Harry Potter reference, Bucky is now scolding everyone. _A proper Hufflepuff._ Tony watched, amused, as Bucky started handing out bottle caps. He had been glaring at Steve pointedly, and Tony paid no attention to the voice in his head saying that he should be more wary of it.

He almost scowled when Natasha gently tugged him down to sit next to her. Instead, he did what he did best. He put on an over-used, not-quite smile and took out his alcohol dispenser. 

“Lucky for me, I have an actual shot glass,” Tony said, both pleased and annoyed. Steve narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, but _I’ll be damned if anything comes out of him mouth I'll send teeth into our drinks._ Imagine his surprise. Tony allowed a vague flicker of satisfaction and confused emotion to cross his face. Calmly, he said “That's right Spangles, keep your lips for doing more useful things than berating me and making me look like a fool in front of entire groups of people,” Steve leaned back. He looked momentarily confused and concerned.

“Hey Tony,” Bucky asked. His name snapped him straight from feeling his float-y, unfeeling state of mind. “Wanna go first?”

Tony dismissed him, trusted him to start the game. “There’s a catch, though, to _this_ game.” He said. He allowed a pause to relish in the small surge of power he felt as everyone’s eyes lit up. “Every question has to be aimed at exposing someone for something they would really rather be kept under wraps. And no lies. You all know I’ll know.”

“Alright,” Bucky reached up his arm and cracked his back and knuckles, letting out a satisfied groan. “Never have I ever had a problem understanding math,” _oh, that fucker._ Tony took a shot. 

“You really went there,” he said, scowling. Not understanding geometry for like five minutes was proving to be the worst thing that had happened to him.

“Hey now, I told you I could only keep our tutoring sessions during that one unit of geometry under wraps for so long!”

The rest of the lunch period passed in a blur. Tony was vaguely present as he bent over the table to explain what _handcuffs_ during _sexy times_ meant, and because he was only vaguely there, he missed his face flushing pink when Natasha whispered “Hey, stupid, don’t tell him now, surprise him later,” even though she knew it wouldn’t actually happen. Tony sat back down with a huff and let his mind wander.

Which, when he had a good few shots of scotch in him and a morning of annoyances behind him, wasn’t going anywhere good. His mind drifted to Ty. Mostly, how much he wanted to punch his teeth in, but he started to wonder if _maybe_ Ty was right. People did mostly see Tony for his money, no matter how he spent it. He had only his public persona, the _other_ person only came out when he was in his lab, and sometimes when he was sleeping. So people saw him as snobby, charismatic, and painfully, painfully rich. And sure, he definitely had more money than most of the kids in the school combined, but his father had more, and not only was he stingy as _fuck,_ he managed his money so tightly he would know in minutes if someone withdrew money from his account, and would stop at nothing until he _personally_ found the people responsible. Tony’s eyes widened. His father would stop at absolutely _nothing_ until he found the people responsible, looked them in the eyes and took them through hell. _Oh dear god, I’m going to steal vibranium from my father by stealing thousands of dollars from him._ So, buying lunch for everyone first was a start. 

But before he would think up a master plan, Bruce had an unfortunate, unfair turn. Nobody had head Cap swear, that wasn't fair. Then Clint cleared his throat and looked at him pointedly and- oh. _Oh._ _Oh dear._ Because broad shoulders flitted easy in his memory, the memory of _"Oh fuck"_ all too clear in his mind. He took the shot without another word, and went back to planning.

When Bucky rejected his money, Tony froze. He was just…confused, at first. He handed the fifty back to Bucky, and they played hot potato with it for a few seconds before Tony got frustrated. _Click._ “Hey, stupid. Don’t let pride get in the way here. I want food, everyone else wants food, you don't have enough in Steve’s back pocket for it all and there’s like,” Tony’s brain defaulted _six_ but he tacked on Loki and Sam at the last second. “ _eight_ of us on a good day, everyone wants something different and I don’t have a bill smaller than a fifty. Take it, pay, or I’ll do it myself.” Bucky helplessly looked to Steve, so Tony huffed and took the money from him, ready to take care of it himself. 

He walked up to the cafeteria, pleased with the amount of food choices. Sizable donations (under the name of Howard Stark but funded entirely by Anthony Stark and without the knowledge of his father) had transformed a meager amount of food options to a near damn restaurant. It took him all of five minutes to get food for his friends. Clint would want cereal, maybe a parfait but probably just fruit, wings for Natasha because, well, _wings,_ he made small talk with his favorite Italian cook for a few minutes before requesting “Pollo Alfredo con più formaggio possibile, per favore” as sweet as he could for Bucky, a burrito for Steve, a salad with fruits and nuts for (the actual rabbit) Bruce (because he loved remembering what flavors were when he stopped being sick), and he saw the pans loaded with hot cinnamon buns and immediately picked up five for Thor and Loki. 

The total came out surprisingly high, but he paid with a smile and balanced three trays walking back towards his friends. He was _about_ to start distributing the food, when Steve opened his mouth. Called him a _suck-up,_ called him _ingenuine,_ called him an _act._ And every. single. word. was a heavy, _direct_ punch in his gut. For a second, he saw Ty’s face swimming in his eyes, before Steve stopped talking, Natasha stood up, and Tony saw red.

“Listen close, _Rodgers_ .” _Click, click._ Tony Stark was taking absolutely no shit today. He shoved his finger into the chest of _Steve Rodgers, Man With a Plan,_ the fact that he was reaching up to do it be damned. “I am going to tell you this once, so listen, because next time it's going to be my fist talking. I am finished with your theatrical assumptions of my actions, how you judge everything and assume the actions are based on how _you_ feel about a situation.” He could feel his eyes flash with heat, revelled in the startled, shaken look on Steve’s face.

Control, control, control, he let his words get away from him for a second. Natasha looked away in shame, stalked back to Clint, and rubbed her forehead. “You pay attention to the things you say, Spangles.” _Clicklicklicklicklick_. He spat out the nickname, so much weight, so many-

_“C’mon, Spangles, English time!” “I’m comin’, I’m comin’, hang on….”_

Tony’s breath shook for a second as he tried to separate himself from his memories.

_“Oh, oh fuck-Bucky, do that-ah! Aga-ain” and Tony muttering under his breath “Shit, Spangles,” and slipping quietly away…_

He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck to the right.

_“Spangles, we’re about to be late to the banquet, you said you’d escort me, get your ass in gear!” “I'm tryna-god- AH! Biscuits Tony, I can’t tie this tie” and the most fun he’d had at a banquet in almost all of his life…_

He cracked his neck to the left.

_“Hey there, Spangles. Gotcha something.” “Naw, you shouldn’t have! That’s just stupid.” And how he still had that round, star enamel pin on his lanyard._

Tony frowned, looked down and _yep, there was the red, white and blue pin, still after two years._ “I spend this money because I care. I know that You, Bucky, Thor are on the football team, eat twice as much as we do. Yet, you and Bucky don’t eat breakfast most days, and today may have been an exception but you digest too fast to be able to make it through the day.” _Click._ Tony started rambling, started getting progressively more upset as he looked at each of his friends and be told he _didn’t care_ about them and looking across the cafeteria and seeing Thor snarling at a tall kid with blue hair with an arm around his little brother and seeing _Ty’s_ face swimming in front of him, taunting him telling him he was nothing more than his money, his friend his _best friend_ who he had almost-

And Tony snapped his mouth shut, realizing he had started talking about his father. He grit his teeth. “I feed my friends, even those who are pissing me off.” He gave Bucky instructions to take care of everyone, looked around, let his eyes fall to his _friend._ “Captain, I don’t want to see your face for a week at least. Eat your fucking burrito, and don’t call me to apologize at midnight this time.” How unfortunate. _This time._ This had happened enough times. “I’m not going to pick up, and if I do, I’m not going to be nice about it. Natasha, make sure Loki eats, and put any leftovers in my locker,” And so, ever so gracefully, Tony, 5’3’’ bony genius, took a huge swig of scotch ( _click_ ), took his small cup of fruit, and left, leaving Steve Rodgers, 6’2’’ football team captain, and James “Bucky” Barnes, Certified Depressed Bastard With a Prosthetic, gaping after him. He had work to do, after all.

\---

The effort to get him out of school had gone _so_ much smoother than he had expected. Quick text to Jarvis, who responded in just a few seconds, and a promise of a ride. 

The food was a bit tougher. He went to the school kitchen, greated Chef Mateo with a grin, and asked if he could help prepare a few specific food items (that he would pay generously for). 20 minutes later, he had a stack of go-boxes that he opened Steve’s locker for (07-04? _Really, Steve?_ ) and shoved in, none too gracefully. He double checked his wallet to make sure that the card his father had lent him the other day (he was supposed to have attended a charity auction, using his father’s money to buy connections last week) was still there (it was) and started ordering groceries. 

Jarvis pulled up in a sleek, quiet and subtle black car and Tony rolled his eyes. _No style._ “Sup, Jarvis?” Jarvis just smiled, and ruffled his hair.

“I will not lie to you, I expected you to stumble through the doors.” Tony frowned. “I mean no harm, Ant- Tony, I mean no harm.” Tony bristled, and cracked his knuckles.

“It’s fine. I get it.” He didn’t have to say how upset he had gotten at the comment, and Jarvis was content to not mention it as well. 

“Why the grocery?”

“I have to get something from Father’s lab. And before you freak, yes, it’s not much of a possibility, yes, I have a plan, yes, I will likely get hurt.” Stunned and speechless, Jarvis rolled into the parking lot of the small grocery. 

“Sir, as worrisome as the statement is, you haven’t answered my question?” He glanced at Tony. 

“Right. Well, I figured Steve and his mom Bucky don’t have much money, like, not enough to consistently feed them every day of the week. Which sucks, and this is sort of an excuse to help them because I’ve been meaning to, ever since Ms. Rodgers tried paying me for that heater job I did?” Jarvis nodded, remembering how peeved Tony had been when an envelope containing money enough to be the grocery allotment had been delivered to his house, to his name. “And I get to guilt trip Steve, feed the three of them and pay their rent for months, give them a fucking _puppy,_ which will be awesome by the way, get the metal I need to help Bucky because his arm is all fucky recently, and return the money Ms. Rodgers paid me, all in one action that’l most likely result in nothing more than a shove down the stairs or something.”

“Sir, I must say, an incredible accomplishment but how exactly will you arrive at all of those things?”

“Ah. Howard’s debit card. He gave it to me to use the other day at the charity auction we went to, and it’s identical to mine. The difference in the pin is a single digit. I’ll use his money to buy everything, pay for everything and while he’s off finding the person responsible for several thousand out of his account, I’ll grab the vibranium and then transfer the money from my account to his. Ultimately, he won’t lose any money. Explaining the mistake won’t really be an issue, it’s an easy one. And, by the time he gets home he will have already seen his account balance return to normal and demand answers from me.” He paused. Suddenly, he didn’t know what would happen next. “Either I get slapped around a bit, or maybe get locked out of the house for a few minutes, maybe I’ll get shoved down the stairs.” Tony shrugged.

“...I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this.”

“Nope!” Tony said, popping the _p._

\---

“Jarvis, oh my god, J, look at him!” Jarvis smiled warmly as Tony held up a small, squirmy mutt with a patchwork of colors in his fur. “Look at him!” He shoved the puppy into Jarvis’s face. “Remind me why I can’t own a dog, right this second.” Jarvis, confused, said nothing.

“Ah, Sir, I don’t think you have a reason.”

“I want him so bad. Shit. You’re so cute!” The puppy barked playfully, and nipped at Tony’s hand. He was gushing over the thing. “Oh, dear god, this is not okay. Here. Go. Go on, Adonis.” Jarvis quirked an eyebrow, and said nothing. “Look at that lab, oh, they’re going to die when they see him!” The labrador in question was quite a sight to be held. His coat was patchy, stale grey and brown. “He’s perfect.” Tony looked at Jarvis, who was gently trying to shake _Adonis_ off of his leg. “Ah. Here, Donie.”Tony squatted down, beckoning the little mutt with a curl of his fingers. The little Mutt, dubbed Adonis, happily ran over and began nosing at Tony’s hand. “You’re not letting me out of here without you, are you? Are you? No, I wouldn’t leave anyway, of course I wouldn’t, look how precious you are!” 

And that’s how Jarvis found himself holding two leashes, one belonging to Adonis, the other belonging to the grey-brown lab, who Tony affectionately called Cabbage Patch, (“After the _dolls,_ Jarvis, come _on_ ”). He helped Tony load a bunch of food, training treats, and two large wire cages into the back of the car.

Adonis sat on Tony’s lap, and Jarvis didn’t say anything, but he smiled to himself, when Tony started talking to the puppy to get it to calm down from his shaking.

\---

Getting into the Rodger’s house was easy, leaving everything everywhere was easy, setting up the wire cage and small bed (and petting Cabbage until he fell asleep) was easy, giving the doorbell lock a slight boost was easy. 

Trying to wire the money from his account to his fathers, as it turns out, was not. Tony sat on his bed, ignoring Adonis nosing at his elbows and trying to get pets from him, frustrated that he couldn’t get the money to his father’s account. Eventually, he gave up, and called his father (who, unbeknownst to Tony, was arriving at the Rodger’s building) on his cell.

 _“Anthony. What is it, I am out several thousand dollars and am trying to find the person responsible. This can wait.”_ the static at Tony’s ear meant Howard was about to hang up and he couldn’t risk that, couldn’t-

“Nonononononono, that’s what I’m trying to-to say, that was me, that was me, it was an accident, you gave me your debit card and it looks just like mine so I thought it _was_ mine and I’m trying to wire the money I spent to your account but it won’t go- there! It should have transferred. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

 _“Anthony. I have been driving around, making house calls like a madman, visiting_ pet shops _and_ groceries _as if I was level with them, and for what? A simple, stupid mistake? Are you absolutely_ stupid?! _When I get home, you had better come down and receive your punishment for this. You know slip ups like this aren’t tolerated.”_

“Yes, sir. As soon as I found out the mistake, I have been trying to fix it, sir, I-”

 _“I did_ not _ask for an explanation, nor for an excuse! The owners of the shop mentioned two mutts. If you brought one of them home, don’t expect any help or sympathy from me. I expect that dog to be well trained and vicious to strangers by the end of the month. Do I make myself clear?”_

“...yes sir. Thank you, sir.” there was a soft _huff_ on the other side of the line, before it went dead.

Tony let out a deep breath, and stood up slowly, before realizing he had yet to take anything from Howard’s lab. He clicked his tongue, and Adonis happily joined him at his ankle as he wove through the hallways to get to the lab.

\---

“Okay, this should be relatively easy I think.” Tony told Bucky three days later. He hummed as he looked over his current arm. “I took the measurements correctly, did my research, made an off switch for your nervous system while I’m fucking around in there, hm…” Tony muttered to himself, like checking items off a list. He clapped his hands. “Shirt off, Freeze Pop!” Buckky rolled his eyes.

“Do I have to?” Tony arched an eyebrow, and frowned.

“I mean, you could’ve worn a shirt without sleeves like I _heavily recommended_ you do, so you didn’t have to, but here we are.”

Bucky cursed, and peeled off his shirt. Tony, ever the medic, ogled near shamelessly. _Fuck,_ can't do that. He shook his head and looked a little closer to see the actual shoulder. There was significant scarring, evidence of an infection, and an unfortunate amount of swelling. 

“So…you’ve got an infection. Which means I can’t morally put a new arm in today.”

“The hell you can’t, that’s bullshit!” Bucky immediately started protesting. “You told me this would go smoothly! Now I’m wasting my Monday off on this? On what, a short genius with a split lip and a shiner to rival fuckin’ Steve? Hey, what happened by the way? I feel like you’re getting into more fights than normal recently, is there anything I can-”

“No, Bucky. I have the arm. Take a deep breath in and hold it for a second. I think you’re going to feel the dislocation, but I need you not to tense your shoulder so it’s easier to remove. Because the prosthetic is metal, it's going to be a pain in the ass. The meds I gave you should be kicking in right about now.” Tony went on talking to Bucky, keeping lazy eye contact as he let his fingers run over the metal joint. Something felt off, and he couldn’t place what. He locked his fingers into the sensor triggers, ready to take the arm off. 

Bucky’s placid face, calm, curious, unchanging as there was a hollow _pop_ , would echo in his mind for years, he was sure of it.

Shortly after Tony dislocated the metal arm, he found that Bucky just...wasn’t in a lot of pain. He had been sort of surprised, sure, but the dull shock had echoed in him and the pain immediately dissipated. Or so he had been told. He had already removed bolts in his shoulder joint, metal from around infected muscle and skin, and an incredibly horrifying patchwork of connections, welding, and monotone colored wires. Horrifying, terrible, frightening, awful. Horrible work, horrible results. 

Tony shook his head. _Monsters. Who did this, why do this, how did they do this?_ He pushed up his glasses and set to work adjusting the plates of vibranium to match the levels of muscle in his flesh arm. In reality? Tony had no idea what to expect. What the hell was he supposed to do? Bucky’s previous prosthetic was nothing more than a metal… existence that moved with his other arm for the most part, was tearing itself apart (based on the age of the metal in the arm, versus the age of the bolts in his shoulder) because of the weight, and he was trying to replace it with a piece of experimental technology nobody had even _attempted_ before. The idea that vibranium would take on and exchange data with a central nervous system coded to DNA, not metal, with the rest of his body, was such a far fetched hope he had bitten his nails to stubs over the past few days, trying to reassure himself.

Bucky came up from the impromptu surgery two hours after Tony had finished cleaning his various scars, cuts, and holes in his bones and putting in the new metal shoulder base. Tony jumped at the sound of movement, and metal on screeching metal. He took a deep breath and did his best to calm his racing heartbeat. _Come on. Set down the blowtorch, turn it off. Be calm for the heavily drugged football player that can knock you on your ass without blinking,_ “Okay, Buckaroo. Imma needya ta take a deep breath. Does your arm hurt?” Bucky grunted, and sat up with his eyes closed. 

“Um, it’s more throbbing pressure than actual pain at the moment, and not the nice kind of throbbing pleasure.” Tony made a strangled noise, not sure if Bucky had realized he had switched the words.

“Al-alright. Well. I can tell you this. Your arm? Fucked up. I have no idea what happened, why people thought it was okay to link your arm to you like that. I installed a new shoulder base, and I would _love_ to wait a few hours so your body could at least become not entirely hostile to it, but I'm bored and you heal stupid fast.” Bucky nodded in understanding. Tony carefully explained what he was doing as he was doing it, let Bucky run his fingers down scabs, precision cuts, old unhealed scars. “I need a favor from you, while I’m working on getting this thing-” Tony waved the metal arm “attached to you.” Bucky blinked a few times as if he could just realize he could see and smiled wide. Tony watched his fingers twitch somewhat nervously before he realized Bucky had started talking.

“-ything you need, sweet thing” He said, his voice just as gravel as if had been a second ago, if not infinitely more tired. 

“Tell me about how you lost your arm, who took it, who put that _thing_ on you-”

“No.”

“Oh wonderfu- no? Why not? I get it’s probably hard but you don’t have to- don't have to, to freak out or, or anything, a zipline accident or a bad fall when you were a kid it can’t have been that bad-” Tony watched Bucky carefully, how his face scrunched the more he kept talking, just a little _bit-_

“I was a lure.” Bucky said, slowly closing his eyes. Tony supervised as Bucky fiddled with the base and the arm. He laid back down slowly.

“A lure?”

“Let me tell you, Tony baby,” and _oh_ Tony refused to admit just how much that affected him- “The world is not a glamorous place.” And, well, Tony could admit to setting his things down for a second. “When I was six, I was kidnapped. The people who took me had other boys, my age and looked similar as well. Every day, we were sent out with a name, a photo, and a place. We had to get to the place, and talk the person in the photo into coming back to the house.” Tony grimaced, and resumed work on Bucky’s arm. “When we weren’t _luring,_ ” He hesitated, if just for a moment. “When we weren’t luring, they kept us next to and sometimes inside this giant refrigeration unit in their basement. It was so cold, I watched a few of the boys go to sleep, and never wake up again.” Glancing up, Tony could see the far off look in his eyes, as if he had forgotten where he was. “They killed, every single one of the people we brought to them. The screams echoed in the walls, in our ears, for months. Disobedience was never a question.” At Bucky’s pause, Tony looked up through his eyelashes at him, letting him continue. “Well. At first it was. I was their worst child, they told me so all the time. I refused to do anything. I would wake up in panic trying to find Stevie and eventually, eventually the amount of times they sht me up in that freezer did a number on my brain. I couldn’t step close to there before my memories were wiped clean, shrink said it was a combination of triggers and too much for my brain. I started behaving incredibly well. So well, in fact, that I was dubbed the _Winter Soldier_ , the small child with ashy skin and hair like dead branches. I was always sent to get the _important_ ones, the-” a soft whine from the other side of the lab sounded when Bucky made a particularly distressed noise. Tony clicked his tongue three times _(approach, slowly)_ to Adnois, who promptly laid down on Tony’s feet.

“One day, the place I needed to find my target was a train station. This was definitely earlier, around seven years old maybe? I ended up falling off the track, and it was an elevated rail. Busted up my ribs, lost my arm. They’d been doing maintenance and stuff on it, but I wasn’t about to do it myself, so here we are.” Tony looked at Bucky intently. His stubble was getting long enough to be considered scruff, and he needed to shave it off. How had he messed up that badly? Sure he had meant to provoke Bucky, but to make such a _joke_ out of- out of-

“So here we are.” Tony repeated quietly. He lightly gestured with his foot and Adonis lept onto the chair, onto the table and curled up under Bucky’s right arm. “I have one more thing to connect. It’s going to hurt like hell for about three seconds, but I already have my finger on the trigger switch. It should cut feeling pain and movement from your arm, it _should_ , but I don’t actually know if it’ll work, so just… brace yourself.” Bucky nodded. “You need something to bite, Buckybear? Okay, christ, no need to shake your head that hard. Lay down, DumE get over here, Bucky Imma need you to inhale with the robot.” Bucky started breathing deeply and Tony bit his lip nervously, accidentally biting it back open. _Alright. Just the one thing. Finger locked, clip cocked. Bucky at the crest of his breath in 3...2...1!_

“ _Holy mother of shit, Tony!_ ” Tony had already disconnected feeling. Ouch. “You didn’t tell me it was going to hurt _that_ bad, god!”

“Hey it's not my fault you don’t take me seriously. Okay. How’s it feel?”

“Not painful really, but uncomfortable, definitel- _hey!_ ” Tony winced, taking back the shock rod he had nudged some of the inside wires with. “Asswhipe. Hey, your lip is bleeding again, stupid, stop nipping at it!” Tony poked the outside of Bucky’s arm a few times. “Stop that, it's making an annoying clicking noise. ShellHead! I’ll kill you, I swear.” Tony just chuckled, setting the shock rod down. “Are you going to- oh, just like that? It was that easy? I mean it hurt a little but I thought pushing a metal socket back together would be much more-” Tony fixed him with a look.

“Okay. Try flexing your fingers. Since clearly, it didn’t disconnect all pain, it might be able to- oh. Oh-oh. Forgot I did that.” Bucky looked down at his buzzing finger curiously. 

“Why the fuck did you put my finger on uncontrolable vibrate mode, Tony baby?” And Tony was having trouble remembering _when_ he did that.

“Oh-oh god. I was working- I _thought_ I was working on the prototype, I was on the phone with Bruce and we were just sort of giggling over it and he suggested it and I just said hey why not I didn’t realize that was your actual _arm_ Buck, I’m sorr-” Tony started tugging at his hair, because Bucky was _upset_ and Tony was _small_ and Bucky was _built_ and Tony was _tired_ and-

“Tony, Tony you’re rambling. You’re fine. _I’m_ fine. This is fine. Ridiculous, but fine. How do I turn it off? Tony? _Tony. Hey,_ sweet thing, just take a breath. To-why are you laughing? Tony fucking Stark, you stop giggling right this instant you fucker-” Tony just started wheezing. He started laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and then some.

“Oh my god I installed a vibrator in your finger!” and Bucky, who Tony _knew_ was still somewhat out of it, started giggling. “What did I- right. I-you- uh.”

“Well? Spit it out, Brainiac?”

“You have to bite the tip of your finger.”

“Oh my god. Can you turn on the arm or- thanks. Um, Tony? Someone’s at the-”

“Jarvis! How can I help you?” Tony beamed at the sight of Jarvis and Ana standing hand in hand. Jarvis snapped and whistled a bit, and Adonis went running.

“Oh, no fun, I wanted to pet him.” Bucky said, falling back against the metal table (again).

“Ah, sir, I believe you may have an issue, sir.” Tony frowned at Jarvis, who was wearing out clothes. How was date night now _Tony’s_ problem? He had been the one to shove them nearly out the door the first three times, what was he supposed to do now- “Tony, your father wants you upstairs.”

Tony started freaking out a little internally. He just wanted to stay in the lab, tinker around, ogle Bucky- _No, no ogling_ he reminded himself. He rolled his shoulders back, carefully keeping his expression blank.

“I swear to fuck Tony if I take my hand off my face and see that dead look you get in your eyes I won’t hesitate to smack you into tomorrow. Emotions are important. Me telling you about being a kid was important. You being afraid of your father- Tony I can feel you glaring at me, just like I can _taste_ the fear rolling off you. That is _important._ I need a nap, I can’t move, holy shit.” Tony smiled sadly, detached and threw Bucky a blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it felt forced, I know. im sorry. i had a few...annoying misunderstandings with ao3 and it deleted a scene i had to rewrite from memory which sucked but hey lesson for next time google docs first then copy and paste amirite


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